


Tired of Bleeding

by cj2017



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cj2017/pseuds/cj2017
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Category: Hurt/comfort. Ep cont. for See One. Do One. Teach One. So big ol' spoilers for anyone who's not seen the pilot episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tired of Bleeding

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I always did mean to write a tag to the first ep, and recent chat with reversatility on her lj has given me the necessary kick up the arse. Somehow the girls skipping out for drinks just didn't seem like the end of the story, so I extrapolated a little. Slight (very slight) mix in from The Apprentice by Tess Gerritsen - there was a nice image of Rizzoli in there so I pinched it to play with. Huge thanks to Cat, my long-suffering beta. My lovely American beta (the one who takes out all my unwitting Britishisms!) isn't in this fandom, so feel free to shout out any glaring errors and I'll get them changed. Feedback always welcome.  
> Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Please don't sue me.

A strengthening breeze parted the clouds, allowing moonlight to glint off the four stakes that had been driven into the ground. The Apprentice had done his job well, finding a sizeable clearing and working his distances out carefully. The only indication of a plan gone awry was the tools lying about haphazardly where he had abandoned them. Seemingly, there had only been time for him to loop rope around two of the stakes before the screams of his mentor had distracted him…

"And on Friday, Korsak said he'd wear the pink tutu."

"That's nice." Jane Rizzoli nodded absently, her senses still filled with the taste of bile and the sickly scent of blood and burning flesh as she stared and stared at the four stakes in the ground.

The tentative touch to her hand startled her and she brought her head up sharply, her eyes wide. Dozing beside her, Jo-Friday gave a yip at the unexpected movement.

"Hey, easy. It's okay." Maura had pulled her hand away, but she curled her fingers around Jane's again as soon as Jane managed to focus on her. "You back with me?"

"Yeah, sure." Jane laughed, the sound forced and strained. "Been here all the while."

"Mmhm." Maura sipped her wine and then set her glass aside with a grimace; it persisted in tasting like it had been strained through a filthy sock. Despite Jane's initial suggestion of Bloody Marys, once in the Dirty Robber they had fallen back on their regular order of beer and Cabernet. For the first hour they had chatted amiably about inconsequential topics: Agent Dean's lack of fashion sense, ownership of Jo-Friday, the overpriced gym they were considering becoming members of. Jane had smiled and joked and kept up her side of the conversation, but sixty minutes later her second beer remained untouched and her fingers were subconsciously shredding the label she had peeled from the bottle.

Her attention drawn to her actions by Maura's subtle scrutiny, she took a mouthful of her beer as if to prove that everything was just ticking along as normal. The bittersweet flavor she usually relished was sour on the back of her throat, and her façade slipped a little further as she had to swallow twice to force it down. She sighed and gave a shrug.

"I'm just tired, I guess."

"Been a long day." If Jane could skirt around the issues then so could Maura.

"Yeah." Raising her hand, Jane wiped at the sweat beading on her forehead. A crowd of off-duty cops plus an air-conditioning unit that expended all of its energy in ineffectual rattling conspired to make the air in the bar stifling. It was something that had never bothered her before, but tonight the voices were too raucous, the heat made it hard for her to pull in a breath, and when yet another officer she barely recognized slapped her on the shoulder and offered his congratulations for nailing that sick son of a bitch she had to rein in her instinct to snap his hand off at the wrist.

A sudden bang from the bar made her whip her head around, her hand automatically reaching for the gun at her belt. Through the throb of noise she heard Murray curse loudly at his cash register before slamming it shut again. Her shoulders dropped slowly, her holster remaining buckled, the gun secure within it.

"Jane." Maura's voice held an edge, undercutting the din surrounding them and unmistakably concerned.

"I'm okay," Jane answered quickly, with a smile that was meant to be reassuring falling well short of her eyes.

Experience told Maura that arguing the point would be an exercise in futility. Besides, Jane's over-reaction wasn't the reason for her concern.

"You're bleeding." Her brow furrowed, she watched crimson begin to spread through the dressing on Jane's throat. She had no idea what injury was hidden beneath the gauze, but it had evidently torn open when Jane had turned towards the bar.

"Dammit." The blood was slick and warm on Jane's fingers as she touched the bandage.

Maura slid out from their booth, her decision already made. "C'mon, I'll take you home."

Too weary to keep up the pretence any longer, Jane took the hand Maura was holding out to her. "Lead the way."

. . . . .

"Thought we were going home." Watching the streets through eyes stinging with exhaustion, Jo-Friday snoring on her lap, it had taken Jane a good ten minutes to realize they were heading in the opposite direction from her apartment.

"We are." Maura slowed her car for the stop light, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. She knew what Hoyt had done to Jane's bed; there was no way Jane was in any condition to deal with that tonight. The light flicked to green and she accelerated smoothly, relieved that driving provided her with an excuse to avoid Jane's puzzled expression. "Your place is closer, but mine hasn't been broken into and smashed to pieces," she said, in a perfectly reasonable tone from which she had somehow managed to keep all trace of her anger.

"True." Jane let out a breath, somewhat surprised by the sense of relief washing over her. Ever since she had seen the carnage that remained of her apartment, she had been determined to pull an all-nighter, to erase every trace of the two men who had invaded her home and then defy them both by sleeping in her own bed. She shook her head at her stupidity; one of those men was dead and the other would never know where she had spent the night. There was nothing she had to prove to them, and the fact that she was alive was enough of a victory. "You still got that pair of sweats I left last week?"

Maura made a neat turn onto her driveway and switched off the engine. The security light above her garage made her eyes shimmer as she smiled. "Jane, you have so many clothes at my house, it's probably time you had your own drawer…"

. . . . .

The air conditioning in Maura's kitchen was slightly more efficient than that in the bar. Jane shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to stop her teeth from chattering.

"Colder than the damn morgue in here," she muttered, watching Jo-Friday surreptitiously sniff along Bass' shell.

"It really isn't." Having collected a leather bag and a bottle of water from her kitchen unit, Maura adjusted the thermostat and then steered Jane into her living room and onto the sofa, narrowing her eyes as Jane made no effort to resist. She knelt down beside her friend and gently tilted Jane's chin. "You've just had a rough night."

"I'm fine." Catching hold of Maura's hand, Jane pulled it away from the soaked bandage on her neck. "It's fine. I don't need you to…"

"…Stop you from bleeding everywhere?" Maura raised an eyebrow in challenge and waited until Jane followed her gaze downwards. The shirt Jane was wearing, already singed and gray with dirt, was now liberally splattered with blood.

"Crap." Defeated, Jane let her head hit the back of the sofa with a dull thud. She closed her eyes and relaxed her grip on Maura's hand. "Do your worst, doc."

Reaching into her bag, Maura selected and opened a packet of gauze, dampening it with the bottled water. The soiled dressing was slick and heavy, its tape already peeling loose at the edges, and it came free with only the slightest persuasion. She eased the gauze across the bloodied mess it left behind, cleaning carefully to reveal a two-inch incision still oozing blood in a steady line down Jane's throat. She felt Jane shudder beneath her fingers as she applied direct pressure to the injury. Hoyt had only made a small wound. The tip of his scalpel had pierced the skin and sliced deliberately, not enough to do any real damage, just enough to let Jane know exactly who was in control. Doing her utmost to ignore a surge of nausea, Maura struggled to keep her voice level.

"This needs suturing or it'll keep opening up. Didn't the paramedics tell you that?"

Jane cracked one eye open. "They told me."

"Oh."

"They told me a few times. And then they made me sign something to say I was an idiot." She heard Maura's choked-off laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and shook her head in apology. "Can you fix it?"

Warm fingers touched her cheek. She opened her eyes to meet those of her best friend properly.

"I can fix it," Maura confirmed quietly, "but I've no local. It'll hurt like hell."

"Don't need local for corpses, huh?" Her mouth dry, Jane swallowed hard, her throat working conspicuously beneath Maura's touch and belying her attempt to make light of the circumstances.

"No, it's strange but they rarely complain." Following Jane's lead, Maura kept her tone light as she searched through her medical bag for a suture kit. Having found one, she sat beside Jane on the sofa and adjusted the angle-poise lamp she usually used for reading until it gave her the best possible view.

"Just a little…" Her hand was steady as she positioned Jane's head. "That's perfect. Try and stay still for me."

"'Kay."

The curved needle Maura had selected was much smaller than those she was accustomed to, the thread fine and delicate. It was the type of suture kit she always used on infants to try to ensure that the child was given back to its family in the most presentable condition possible. Jane didn't need to know that; the only thing she needed to know was that Hoyt wouldn't be leaving her with any more scars.

Maura felt Jane's breath catch the instant the needle bit into her skin, but Jane didn't move and she didn't make a sound. Pulling the thread taut, Maura tied off the suture and immediately started the second, certain that any hesitation would result in both of them losing their nerve. It took three sutures to close the wound, and she could feel the tremble of adrenaline in her fingers as she completed the knot of the last one.

Jane's eyes were open, focused intently on a landscape portrait on the wall, but her face was ashen and sweat had stuck her hair to her forehead. She turned her head carefully when she felt Maura smoothing a clean dressing into place.

"You okay?"

Jane nodded quickly. "Yup."

"Want to talk about it?" Maura ventured carefully.

A shake of the head, just as quick. "I just wanna take a shower."

Maura paused, her hands full of discarded wrappers, her face troubled. "I don't think you should get those burns wet," she said reluctantly, though she fully understood her friend's instinctive need to get clean.

The cracks that had gradually been appearing in Jane's composure opened a little wider, and she wavered as she clambered to her feet. "Maur, please."

"How about a bath instead?" Maura slipped her arm around Jane's waist and felt Jane lean towards her.

"Mmm, sounds nice."

"Keep the water shallow and stay sitting up. Deal?"

Jane managed a grin. "You wash my back for me and it's a deal."

With a despairing laugh, Maura brushed Jane's tangled hair away from her forehead and then pressed a soft kiss against her cheek. "Deal."

. . . . .

"When I first got into the van, they used a stun gun."

Maura nodded. The angry welt formed a familiar shape, and a stun gun had always been Hoyt's initial weapon of choice. "And this?" Her fingers skimmed feather-light across the small puncture wound close to Jane's right clavicle.

"The Apprentice, Stark. He injected me with something. A sedative, I guess."

"Want me to run a tox-screen?"

"No, I'm good, thanks." Jane squinted against the glare of the bathroom lights. "Left me with a bit of a headache, that's all." Leaning forward, she murmured gratefully as Maura ran the sponge across her back and down her arm.

"Covered in bruises," Maura whispered.

"I fell," Jane said, just as quietly. "Well, rolled, from the back of the van. I couldn't…" She put her wrists together, the abraded skin on them clearly showing where she had been bound. Maura nodded quickly in understanding, not needing her to elaborate, but Jane managed a self-deprecating smile. "Wasn't the most graceful of landings."

The sponge in Maura's hand moved again, cascading warm water down Jane's back, and she wiggled her toes as the awful tension that had made her feel as if she was teetering along a knife's edge slowly began to dissipate. A yawn hit her out of nowhere and she heard Maura try to stifle a laugh.

"Don't you fall asleep in there." Maura's attempt at sounding authoritarian wasn't entirely successful either.

"Mm, I won't." Forcing her eyes open, Jane blinked up at her friend. "I'm getting out any minute now."

This time Maura didn't even try to disguise her laughter. "No you're not."

Jane sighed contentedly as something sweet-smelling and soapy was added to the sponge. "No, I'm not…"

. . . . .

"Honestly, Jane, the second I leave you alone…"

"Huh?" Bubbles flew upwards as Jane's hand lost its grip on the side of the bath and splashed into the water. "I'm awake," she protested, indignant in spite of the water's tepidness implying that she might have been drowsing for some time.

Maura had spoken from the doorway, having left the room to find clean clothes. With a smile, she put the clothes down and picked up a towel. "C'mon, I'll change those dressings and you can get some real sleep."

Minutes later, wrapped in the towel and standing compliant beneath Maura's touch, Jane wondered fuzzily why the hell she had spent so long chasing after Agent Dean when everything she had ever wanted was standing right beside her, carefully helping her to dry her back.

. . . . .

"Here, take these."

Jane swallowed the Tylenol with water and without dissent, but the lights were already dimmed, which meant she couldn't see the worry etched across Maura's face.

"You want me to stay for a while?"

"No." Jane gave her standard response, but then bit her lip in the darkness. "Yes."

There was no reply, only the dip and creak of the mattress as Maura settled beside her. A couple of seconds later, Maura took her hand, interlacing their fingers.

Minutes passed, a clock ticking them by as Jo-Friday snuffled and found a comfortable position and the wind outside made a shutter clack. When Jane finally spoke, her voice was so muted that Maura had to strain to hear her.

"I shouldn't have looked."

The clock ticked, twenty seconds, then thirty, before Maura prompted gently, "Shouldn't have looked at what?"

She felt Jane shiver and then the draft of her hand as she wiped her face dry.

"Stark was dead and I'd made sure Hoyt wasn't going anywhere. I hogtied the bastard. So I went to the clearing." Her throat choked on the words, but she persevered. "Hoyt had called it their final game, and Stark had been getting everything ready. There were stakes, four stakes hammered into the ground, rope tied around a couple of them. They were…" Her breath was coming in gasps and it took an obvious effort for her to get it back under control. "He'd got them ready for me."

"But you stopped them." Maura squeezed Jane's hand, emphasizing her point.

"I threw up," Jane admitted with a harsh laugh. "I knelt down and puked my guts up, and I could hear Hoyt laughing at me." Her fist thumped down on the bed, making Jo-Friday give a frightened yelp. "I should've shot him in the fucking head."

"Would you have been able to live with that?" There was no accusation in Maura's question, no indication which way Jane should answer.

"I'm not sure, Maura. I guess I didn't think so at the time, but now I think of Gail Yeager and Karenna Ghent and I wonder whether I gave them any justice, whether their families will get any peace." The shake of her shoulders was barely perceptible as she began to cry. "Will I get any peace, knowing he's still out there? I was so scared, I still am so fucking scared, and I'm so fucking tired of bleeding for him."

She went willingly when Maura gathered her closer, tucking her head against Maura's neck and nestling into the comforting warmth of her friend's body.

"He can't hurt you anymore, Jane," Maura said, her lips so close to Jane's cheek that Jane felt the warm breath of her words. "You can go to sleep."

Jane wanted to protest, to shake her head and tell Maura about all the terrors that crept up on her in the dark, but her eyes were already heavy, the ticking of the clock beginning to fade into the background. She felt Maura stroke her back over and over, an unfailing rhythm that gradually unraveled every fear that stubbornly clung to her. She took a breath and let it out slowly. Still holding tightly onto Maura's hand, she closed her eyes.


End file.
